The Spy
by chho
Summary: On his wedding anniversary, Hans Landa's word begins to unravel with no hope of repair.
1. Chapter 1

**_ 11.03am. 7th October, 1941._**

'Colonel?' A voice hollered. 'Colonel Landa?' It yelled again, appearing louder… almost outside his office door.

Hans stood up from his chair, his face bitter and unwelcoming of the distraction. He took off his glasses and began towards the door. A young private burst through his office door just as he opened it. The Private held his chest and huffed and panted.

'What is it you want, Private?' He quipped aggressively as his eyes scanned over the boy who had so rudely interrupted his work.

'I am sorry Colonel, but it's Mrs. Landa...' He gasped in pain, still clasping where his heart was beneath his flesh.

'What about her?' He asked.

'She has been taken; there was an ambush on the convoy she was traveling in. Everyone was found dead, but not her.'

'When was this?' He barked aggressively.

'Another convoy reported it half an hour ago. It is on a back road into the city.'

'Into the city? Which city?' She hadn't told him she was going into the city today, he thought.

'Paris, sir.'

'Who is looking for her? Get me a car to the scene...' The Colonel interrupted unusually quietly. The Private stood still, almost dumbfounded. 'Now!' Landa screamed. He had only left her a mere two hours ago; she was sleeping.

He gathered himself and closed his eyes for a moment, a moment of weakness, as he remembered their last exchange of words. Angry ones. These words led to his wife shooing him away and eventually sleeping with her back to him, something she had never done in three years. After a few more weak moments, he snatched his overcoat from a chair and proceeded through the new offices he was assigned. It seemed every occupant of the building knew what was happening; their eyes filled with pity as they looked at him, for they knew what the young Mrs. Landa's fate was likely to be.

_'Where have you been?' She asked in a tone which Hans knew meant she was angry, though she would never directly tell him this._

_'I had a few bits of paperwork to finish... I apologise for any inconvenience.' He smiled widely and contently as he took off his overcoat._

_Now he had done it._

_'Its our three year anniversary and you were finishing paperwork?'_

_'My love, I am lucky to have gotten away at all. I must leave for the city at daybreak.'_

_'Oh, well if that's the case it's fine, I'm sorry to cause you an inconvenience.' He could tell from her colour that she would be inconsolable tonight._

_'Did I not say sorry?' He cooed, holding out his arms as either a peace offering or an attempt to summon her over, she couldn't tell._

_'If you're needed elsewhere, Colonel, consider yourself dismissed.' She returned, venomously and red with fury and frustration._

_'Well I have the night with you now.'_

_'If I look at you for a moment longer I feel that I won't be able to control myself.' She returned through gritted teeth._

_'Please spare this, I have had a long day-'_

_'Why're you making this so difficult for me, Hans?'_

_'What, exactly, am I making difficult for you?'_

_'No matter what I do you are never happy.'_

_'My love, I have never meant to give you that impression.'_

_'I'm tired. Cook left some soup in a pan. That is if you're not too busy.'_

Damn. Why had he been like that? The Colonel was now sat in the back of a impressively polished car on his way to the crime scene.


	2. Chapter 2

**_9.25am. 7th October, 1941._**

'You ready?' Aldo huffed, taking a sniff of his tobacco. His team stood ready, their veins pumping with the pre-ambush adrenaline they had grown to crave. 'Ya'll remember who we're lookin' for now. Let's go.'

The pack was off. Each of them taking their position behind the ancient oak trees beside the road. They peered through the scope of their rifles, awaiting the German convoy they were expecting. Aldo stood watching from a distance, waving his hand as he saw the first truck emerge from the distance. One by one, the tyres of the trucks and cars were shot, sending them screeching to a stop and their drivers and occupants into a frenzy. The Nazi drivers and soldiers each fell to the ground, dead. Aldo rubbed his hands together, placed his snuff box back into his breast pocket and walked up the embankment to a polished car. He opened the door and held out his hand. A slender, polished hand fit into his and a woman climbed out of the car.

'Now, now, now...' Aldo slurred as he held her hand and debuted her to his men back in the wilderness, as if she wasn't surrounded by puddles of blood and bodies. 'Mrs. Landa.' He smiled.

'Lieutenant Raine.' A beautiful English accent said.

He stopped suddenly and frowned at her. 'Yer look different…'

'Married life has taken its toll, I'm afraid.' She frowned playfully.

'Thats not it… Just got somethin' else about ya. I assume you have all the relevant-'

'I have everything the list specified. And a little extra.'

'Extra?' He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

'A little food, a good bottle of whiskey. English, of course.'

'Thats the kind of extra I like. Now, let's get y'all settled in for the night.' He smirked provocatively.

'Lets.'

A few hundred metres away from the roadside, The Basterds had a campsite set up. It was here that they sat sipping on whiskey and talking.

'Whats yer cover?' Aldo slurred. There was something about that southern drawl that touched Ella. It was homely, she thought.

'I am currently on my way to Deauville to see my father.'

'Right...' He drawled as he strategised. 'And why ain't you in that car we just shot at?'

'I caught the train and sent my luggage in the car.'

'Wheres yer ticket?'

'I threw it away in Deauville, a car took me back to Paris.'

'And he'll believe that?'

'Why wouldn't he? It's the truth.'

'Well, I know there ain't nobody to tell him otherwise,' He drawled with wide eyes. 'But he can sniff out a liar better than I can skin a racoon. And I'm pretty damn good at skinnin' racoon. So, we need a plan B.'


	3. Chapter 3

**_8.53pm. 7th October, 1941._**

Landa was sat in the morning room across from the foyer. A newspaper was spread out before him on the mahogany table and a cup of coffee sat beside it. Both had been neglected for some time, as instead of reading and drinking, he stared blankly at the papered wall.

When his eyes finally required him to blink, the latch on the door rattled and clattered before he heard it open. Knocking over his coffee, he shot up and darted towards the foyer.

'My love, where have you been?' He asked, watching his wife put down her handbag and pull a fur from around her shoulders.

'You're looking rather tired, darling.' She announced before continuing past him.

He clasped her wrist, pulling her back towards him. 'I've been frantic, why didn't you tell me you were coming to the city?' Landa spat furiously.

'I've been in Deauville with my father, darling.' She frowned as she put her hand atop of his. The pale pressure marks began to turn red.

'Why were your cases in that car?' Snarled Landa, pulling back his had back.

'I was going to surprise you instead of going back to Draveil…' Ella smiled in her usual carefree manner. 'An apology for the other night.' She continued.

'You should have told me!' He snapped.

'I'm…' She stopped, swallowing the lump of fear in her throat. 'I'm not sure what I'm supposed to have done.' She stuttered. In that moment, she was hit by the realisation that she had made a bad decision.

'This is no way to act, Ella!'

'I was angry with you,' She began. 'You expect me to stir in that house for days on end without any kind of-'

'The sight of you is making me angrier by the second. I'll be at my offices.'

And with that deafeningly loud slam of the door, he was gone. Ella ran into the bedroom and dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together.

'O Lord, Jesus Christ, Redeemer and Saviour, forgive my sins…'


	4. Chapter 4

_**10.30am. 7th October, 1941.**_

Ella arrived in Deuville at around half past ten. There was a smog over the sea which brought in a bitter breeze from the channel. Nonetheless, she found the L'Barriere where she was to meet her father.

'_Ah_, my darling.' He called out from across the almost empty room.

'Good morning…' Ella began as they exchanged a series of kisses and hugs before her father showed her to the table he had reserved overlooking the ocean. 'Are you well?' She asked as a waiter took away her coat.

'You've not resorted to small talk _already_ have you, Ella?'

'_Papa_,' She warned. 'It is a pleasantry.'

'When did you become one for pleasantries?' Her father quipped as she tucked herself into the table.

'Three years ago.' She returned sarcastically.

'Ah, yes. Did he enjoy his surprise?' Arthur asked, watching his eldest girl pour his tea. He was fascinated as he remembered for a moment when his wife would pour tea for them in the cafe; but that seemed a million years ago now.

'No. He was late home.' Ella informed him as she poured her own cup.

'Perhaps you need to get away for a while.' He suggested as he dropped a cube of sugar into his tea.

'I don't think that would go down very well.' She sighed.

'On the subject of getting away; I'm going home tomorrow.'

'_Home_?' She scoffed, frowning. 'I thought you were staying in France.'

'I have to pick a side.'

'I know.' Remembering when she made hers.

'I have every faith that what you're doing is right.'

'Here,' Ella began, rummaging through her bag for a few moments before pulling out a handful of envelopes. 'I wrote everyone a letter. I don't want them to be seen until you know for sure that I'm… That I've died.'


	5. Chapter 5

**_3.36am. 8th October, 1941._**

Unbeknown to him, his wife was awake when he walked into their bedroom. She watched him as he threw his hat onto her dressing table and sat on its chair. He took a deep breath and began to unbutton his shirt. Ella, however, stayed silent and still. She was a heavy sleeper, or so she led him to believe. As soon as he got under the duck down duvet, she rose from the bed and left their Parisian bedroom.

'Where are you going?' He asked. She didn't answer. Landa got up and followed her into the kitchen. 'What are you doing?'

'Getting a drink.'

'I am sorry about earlier, my love...'

'Why is there no milk?' She asked through a frown.

'I don't know. I want you to know how sorry I am, Ella.'

'Why is there nothing to drink?'

'There is some water... Ella?'

'I hate water...' She announced, returning to the fridge.

'Listen to me, Ella!' He yelled. She calmly turned to him and stared. 'I shouldn't have spoken to you like I did and I am sorry.'

'Don't think you're easily forgiven, Hans.' She barked as she made her way out of the kitchen.

He followed her into the foyer. 'I thought you had been shot! Along with the twelve men in that convoy.'

'Darling, calm down-'

'Do not tell me to calm down!' He roared. 'You are at fault here, not me!'

'At fault?' She scoffed. 'I had tea with my father. If you were less absent you would know this.'

'Do not turn this around on me! My work is important.' He continued, slamming down his fist on the oak side table.

'You are Hitlers lapdog. Why don't you go and do your job and leave me alone!'

'Ella! Don't walk away from me!'

'Do not follow me, Hans! I mean it!' She warned as she stormed into their bedroom and locking the door.

He hammered away at it, still shouting at the top of his voice. 'Open the door!'

'Go away!' She cried, leaning all of her weight onto the painted oak until she hooked the lock closed.

'Ella!' He bellowed, barging his shoulder so forcefully into the door that Ella could hear the wood begin to give. As she moved from the other side of the door, the lock finally buckled, sending Landa through into the bedroom. Whilst Ella darted towards the bathroom, Hans grabbed her arm and threw her backwards, forcing her head into the wooden bedpost.

Hans stood for a few seconds, his eyes moving from his hands to his wife, on the floor of their bedroom. Ella squirmed, her face a portrait of a woman in pain, as she grasped her bloody head. Her husband dropped to his knees, tending to her as she became hysterical. He held her face still as he inspected the wound; it was deep and the blood seemed to keep coming.

'My love,' he croaked. 'I-'

The cries of his wife become so uncontrollable that he too was brought to the edge of tears. He helped his young bride as she struggled to her feet, and walked her to a chair which she sat in as he picked up the telephone beside his bed.

'Connect me to a doctor.'

Ella was frightened. Her head was throbbing; causing a problem in her decision making process. No longer was their a debate between her stubborn head and head. He guards were down.

'A doctor is coming, Ella.'

'I don't want a doctor.'

'My love-'

'Stop calling me that!' She screamed, slamming her fists down onto a table.

'Ella, I don't know-'

'Just get away from me, Hans.' She groaned. She was groggy and her eyes began to roll back into her head.

'You need to be calm, my- try to stop crying.'

'You could have killed me!' She hollered as she got up from her chair and shuffled towards the bed.

'Don't say that, don't!' He yelled back to her as three stern knocks were made at the door.


	6. Chapter 6

_**8.03pm. 8th October, 1941.**_

Iris Mariel Rosenberg, the eldest and dearest friend of Ella Landa, lived an hours drive from the outskirts of Paris. They had been thrown together at the tender age of seven and had spent little time apart since. When they came of age to attend school, their respective parents and guardians had them sent to the finest school in France.

Colonel Landa encouraged his wife's friendship with the daughter of one of the fuhrers closest companion.

Bandaged and shaken, Ella sat in her husbands chauffeured car on the way to the refuge of Mariel's home. The house was large, with land that rolled back for miles into wild forest and tended farmland.

A man was stood at the grand entrance to Mariel's inherited house and scurried over to the car as it stopped. The door was pulled open and a hand was held out. Mariel strolled out of the grand house as Ella was helped from her car.

'Dear me.' She gasped as she saw what were normally glowing and full eyes, sullen and dark. 'Quickly, I've set out the tea.' The dark haired woman chirped.

The same man took her bags from the car and into the house, whilst Ella lagged behind; taking in the old house she once spent so much time in. She found Mariel in a small room they both played in as children

'I cant believe how stupid I've been.' She mumbled.

'I didn't think it would be quite this bad…'

'I don't think I can lie anymore.' Ella croaked.

'You don't have much of a choice.' Her friend frowned, sipping the heavily sugared tea.

'What shall I do?'

She placed the teacup back onto the marble-topped table. 'Grin and bear it. You'd be in front of a firing squad before you know it...'

Ella's place her tea back down, savouring the sugar as she swallowed it. 'I think I'm inhuman sometimes. Don't you?'

'Everyday.' She laughed, lifting her teacup and toasting, entirely misunderstanding her friend.

'I thought I'd let something slip - I was rambling like a madwoman-'

'He had beaten you into a hospital. I'm not surprised!'

'We argued.' Ella told her.

'Did you hit him?' A new voice asked her, in a matter-of-fact manner.

'No.' She answered, without knowing where the voice came from or who it belonged to.

'Awful business.'

Archie Hicox strolled through the threshold. She smiled. Relieved at seeing a familiar face.


	7. Chapter 7

**_11.00am. 8th October, 1941._**

At some point between a neighbour arriving and waking up, Ella Landa had been taken to a hospital. She had been examined, bandaged and sent on her way back. With him. He had not left her side.

He opened the door to their apartment at exactly 11 o'clock. They didn't speak; they hadn't since leaving the hospital. She slipped off the coat she was draped in and returned to where she last laid.

Red had stained the carpet. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't tear her bruised eyes away.

'I am so sorry.' He had followed her.

'I don't know how to get the blood out.' She frowned, scrunching her brow as she thought.

'We will replace it-'

'Mama will know.' Ella interrupted, making her way round to the telephone at his side of the unmade bed.

He left her; in search of food.

Moments later, his wife joined him; sitting opposite him on a small table. 'I am going to stay with Mariel.'

'For how long?'

'A couple of days. Until this blows over."

'You forgive me?'

'I'm going to pack my things.'


	8. Chapter 8

**_8.45pm. 8th October, 1941._**

'You've kept this quiet.' Ella mumbled; keeping her eyes on her knees as he sat beside her. She, as her friend and colleague could tell, was unhappy with his abrupt arrival.

'You've not been sending us any tips, Mrs Landa.'

'I updated the Americans yesterday. As per instruction.' She quipped.

'And you've been making extra paperwork for me, I see.'

She would have laughed if it were not for the pain swelling her head. 'Don't tell me you are concerned.' Slipped from her mouth, full in sarcasm and wit.

'There has always been concern, Ella.' Archie told her in a warning tone.

'I'm sure...' She continued her sarcasm, something he hadn't known her do, nor posses in any amount.

'In any case, you are under new orders.'

'Which are what?' She frowned.

'The resistance down here isn't holding as strong as we'd like, so you'll be staying for the duration.'

'The duration?' She asked.

'The duration.' He repeated.

'Of the week? The year? The war?'

'The war, I'm afraid. You're stuck with the old thing.'

She crumpled her face, closing her eyes to think for a moment. Why did she do this? Why? As quick as her unsteady leg would take her, she left the room, the house, and bundled herself back into the car which delivered her.


End file.
